CHAPTER 54 Wren
CHAPTER 54
Wren
‘The art of poisoning is often attributed to womenfolk. A weapon for the weak against the strong. Or so they believe’
– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations
F OR THE LONGEST time, Wren hadn’t wanted to understand Torj, but now she did. His protective streak, his need to save people, his grief...It all made sense. And now, after sharing the deepest, darkest part of his past with her, he was pulling his arm from her grasp and turning back towards the residence halls.
‘We should get you back inside,’ he said, his voice stripped of all the emotion that had been there moments before.
In silence, she followed him to her rooms and waited for him to go through his checks, understanding his regimented nature so much more clearly now. He gave her a nod to tell her it was clear, then went into his own adjoining room, closing the door softly behind him.
Wren stared at the door, her heart aching for the Warsword. Looking down, she found her hand rubbing her sternum, in the same place where Torj’s chest was marked with lightning scars. She could feel his turmoil in her own body, deep inside herself, as though it were her own pain. And it was. What hurt him, hurt her.
The realization had her surging for the adjoining door. Without knocking, she threw it open.
The Bear Slayer stood braced against the windowsill, the muscles of his back taut with tension, straining against the fabric of his shirt.
‘Don’t,’ he growled.
‘Don’t what?’
He remained at the window, staring out onto the grounds below. ‘Pity me.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You’re telling me that if I turn around now, I won’t see it on your face?’
‘Only you can know what you see, Torj,’ she said.
The Warsword’s broad shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath he took before he slowly turned to face her. Wren didn’t know what to say, or what he needed, only that she needed to be here with him. She took a step towards him, and another, slowly closing the distance between them.
His deep-sea eyes met hers, his muscles bunching as he tensed, taking in the sight of her.
‘Well?’ she prompted, surveying the length of his war-honed body before meeting his stare once more. ‘What do you see?’
Torj’s gaze darkened. ‘The calm before the storm.’
As if in answer, her power surged inside her – at his words, at the heat in his eyes, at the energy that seemed to roll off him in waves, so intense that Wren could hardly bear it.
‘And you?’ Torj asked, moving closer. ‘What do you see?’
Her breath whistled between her teeth as she inhaled sharply under the searing brand of his stare, the masculine scent of him wrapping around her, toying with her senses. They were face to face now, merely inches apart. Wren looked up at his handsome face, taking in the lines around his eyes, the scar through his brow.
‘The man behind the armour,’ she said quietly. ‘The man behind the legend.’
‘Is that so? Discovered I’m human after all, have you?’
If Wren pushed herself up onto her tip-toes, and fisted the fabric of his shirt to pull him down to her...She wet her lips. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.’
‘I’d appreciate it. I’m meant to be infallible.’
Gods, she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her hands up the corded muscle of his arms and across the tattooed planes of his chest. She didn’t. ‘No one is infallible. So I’m constantly told.’
Torj’s throat bobbed. ‘You’d do well to remember it. You’re hard enough to guard.’
‘I’ve been a model principal.’
‘Sure.’ Torj snorted at that. ‘It’s been a real walk in the park, Embers.’
She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull of that cord growing tauter between them.
‘Have you got enough of my secrets for one night?’ he asked.
‘That depends. Is there anything else I should know?’
‘Perhaps...Though if I tell you, I might have to kill you.’ The words came out in a growl.
‘How intriguing,’ she managed.
He huffed a laugh that had her toes curling in her boots. ‘It’s a little-known fact that I, Torj Elderbrock, have a sweet tooth.’
A laugh bubbled out of Wren and she revelled in the brightness gleaming in his eyes. ‘A sweet tooth?’
Torj gave a hum of agreement. ‘A particular proclivity for salted caramel, to be precise.’
She placed a hand over her heart, ignoring the way it pounded beneath her palm. ‘You have my word. I’ll keep your secrets. I especially won’t tell anyone that my big bad bodyguard likes confectionery...’
Torj pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing down to linger at the column of her throat. ‘I like a lot of things I shouldn’t.’
Wren’s breath caught, and she was sure he could feel her pulse racing under that featherlight touch as his words went straight to her core. A fierce longing took hold of her, swelling in her chest, dampening her undergarments.
That bond of lightning amplified and tightened, and Wren stared up into his smouldering gaze. The need for him was all-consuming.
She almost whimpered as he removed his trembling hand and stepped back. Cold swept in between them, but it did nothing to douse the inferno of want that tore through Wren. Every sensation was coiled all too tight inside her. She couldn’t look at him again, not without crushing her mouth to his and begging him to touch her.
‘Good talk,’ she mumbled, before she fled.
With the door closed behind her, she exhaled shakily. What was that? How did he have such a spell over her? Her breasts heaved against her constricting bodice, and she was all too aware of how sensitive her nipples were against the rough fabric, of how her hands were already drifting to her skirts. She needed to get rid of the incessant ache between her legs, the desperate sensation that emptied all other thoughts from her head.
This was insanity, she realized. The Bear Slayer had driven her to the point of madness. And yet, she cupped her breast and squeezed, imagining it was his rough hand closing over her curves, his fingers diving beneath the material to pinch her hard nipples.
Gods, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Biting back a moan, she let her hands explore her body, the act feeling entirely forbidden with the Warsword on the other side of the wall. They had done this before, though, hadn’t they? She’d heard him groan her name as he found his release, as he had heard her. What was one more time? What difference did it make, as long as that wall remained between them?
A gasp escaped her lips as she freed her breasts from her bodice, the cool air teasing her naked skin, tugging her nipples into tighter points. She imagined the Bear Slayer’s mouth on them, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
She was too hot, her skirts too heavy. With a muffled cry of urgency, she stripped away her outer layers, leaving them in a pile at her feet, more cool air kissing her exposed flesh as she braced herself against her workbench. Her hand traced up her bare thigh, her shift bunching up beneath her touch as her fingers met the slickness there.
‘ Gods ,’ she murmured, unable to hold off any longer—
The adjoining door opened.
Torj’s powerful body darkened the doorway. He no longer wore a shirt, the muscles of his bare tattooed chest tensing as he leaned against the frame, his eyes full of fire as they landed where her hand was nestled between her legs.
‘Don’t stop,’ he rasped, voice rough with need. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’
Wren wasn’t sure she could, even if she’d wanted to.
His stare emboldened her, added more fuel to the fire coursing through her. With her breasts already bare, she lifted the hem of her shift.
At last, the deep moan she’d been biting back broke from her lips, and she started to touch herself in earnest.